Don’t take this wrong. I love receiving comments, messages, emails, and calls. But the electronic lifeline is wearing thin.
Used to be I’d check email and Facebook first thing in the morning. After awhile, I realized that at least half of the friends who are likely to write were six or more hours earlier than here, so checking email after lunch would do just fine. A few days passed, and I reverted to in a morning habit for what may have arrived overnight. It was never enough. Emails would lead to Facebook would lead to The Guardian (because it’s in a closer time zone and therefore more timely) would lead to the Times and Washington Post. All the while I’m muttering to myself, “I want communication! And this isn’t it!”
Just now I passed the lovely gentleman who unearthed Pozzo della Cava twenty-some years ago, and turned it into a museum. We don’t really know each other, but I like him. I was masked, he was essentially at home, I bid him a good evening.
“Good evening, good evening! Everyone is masked!”
“I know! It’s so difficult!”
We laughed.
Now the funny thing is, what I said was “I know! È tanto difficile!” Two languages in one sentence. However, he could have heard it as “Ai! No, è tanto difficile!” In fact, he probably did. And that linguistic glitch kept me amused all the way home.
I want communication!
At the beginning of my afternoon walk I saw Natsuko. She and her husband Andrea produced Colloquia last summer, and I’ve missed seeing them terribly. She looked radiant to be outdoors and in motion. I was still struggling to escape an afternoon funk. We exchanged information from a two meters distance, no hands were shook nor cheeks kissed. I wished dearly that my mood had already rebounded so I could adequately express my joy in seeing her. Didn’t quite happen. But we reported on the routes of the walks we were on, bid each other health, and I sent greetings to Andrea and their daughter Amane.
By the time I saw two other friends on Via Maitani I had replayed meeting Natsuko enough times that when Toni asked how I was, I had caught up with an improving mood and was able to report “Better now that I’m walking,” and be honest about it.
Communication.
After a good wander, I visited Tomasso for gelato. He was there himself with two staff. I wondered how it was necessary to have three people serving the paltry number of customers he was likely to see. I also wondered, is he so exceedingly kind that he schedules them just so they’ll have a little work while they wait together for whatever normal may look like by June?
Yesterday evening, I happened past where Stefano and Naomi live. I knew they lived close, but was tipped off as to their exact location by Stefano and his son and daughter’s being out together in their little forecourt.
“Getting some exercise?” and we traded lockdown lore of walking in circles in our respective outdoor spaces.
Stefano is of a restaurant family. His father started Pizzeria Charlie, which Stefano took over about the time I got to know him in the early 2000’s. Over the years I’ve watched him lead the creation or alteration of five or six eateries, his latest project being one of my favorites, Trattoria delli Poggi.
“So, when are you reopening?”
“June sometime.”
“But you could do takeout right away, couldn’t you?”
“We could, but it’s not really worth it. There aren’t customers now, and probably won’t be until people are able to travel again. So, we’ll take it a bit at a time,” and he smiled and shrugged. “We’ll manage.”
He is the same fellow who told me in January that over the previous two years tourism had been on the upswing, that even though the streets seemed not as full, the guests who were coming were here to dine, relax, stay a few days, and patronize the shops, whereas previously there were mostly day-trippers. Stefano has his finger on the pulse of this town as few others do, so if he thinks opening sometime in June makes sense, I am reassured.
And that conversation yesterday helped reduce today’s time online to minutes in the single digits. Communication, satisfied – face to face. Even if one or both of the faces is masked.